


Ready Go!

by Xenrae



Series: Ready...GO! [1]
Category: Inception (2010)
Genre: M/M, pic prompts, prompt fills, think fast
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-01-04
Updated: 2016-01-04
Packaged: 2018-05-11 19:22:04
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 6,300
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5638861
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Xenrae/pseuds/Xenrae
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Think fast prompt fills.</p><p>Previously posted, but I'm consolidating.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Inception II - Arthur & Eames

~~~~~~~~~

 

 

 

 

They can do this.  They’ve both thought about it years now.    
  
The ink is hardly dry on the contract with Nolan.   _Inception II: Arthur & Eames_  is going to happen.  
  
Joe hides behind his glasses, glad Tom can’t read his mind.  Finally.  Finally going to to kiss that fucking mouth, and leave bruises in those tattoos.  Who the fuck cares if the camera is rolling?  
  
Tom makes a face to hide his excitement.  Fucking Arthur.  Tom’s read the fics.  JGL quit being Joe somewhere around 2012.  Christ.  The script called for all  kinds of  _contact_.  He’d get hard, no doubt about it.  Maybe Joe would be okay with that.  He’s not afraid to dream a little bigger, after all.


	2. The Groupie

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Xen: are you serious?  
> Buttons: Do it.  
> Xen: fuck... thinking...  
> Buttons: I'd play COD with him all day long  
> Xen: I'm sure you would. Gamer slut :P  
> Buttons: There's a fucking roll of paper towels or something behind him  
> *dies*  
> Xen: bahaha! lmao  
> OH! I got it....

~~~~~~~~~~

  
[ ](http://imgur.com/SpOWIxg)  


 

Tom makes the "loser" L with his fingers at the skinny girl holding the phone taking pictures.  She's not getting the message.  He's already logged in **_AlwaysHardy_**   for a match, **_Levittate_**  is waiting, and for fucks sake, he's left the paper towel out for clean up.  Groupies never get it.  Maybe if he drags her to the door....


	3. The Fight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Buttons: Post fight, morning after  
> Xen: Awww  
> Buttons: The fight was over something ridiculously stupid  
> Xen: Right. Eames told Arthur he loved him, and Arthur ran  
> Buttons: Lol!!!!!  
> That's not stupid, that's serious  
> You kill me....

~~~~~~~~~~

[ ](http://imgur.com/YVTNqe7)

"Arthur, what is it?"

"Eames, I... what you said... I didn't know, and I shouldn't have run."

"Forget I said it Arthur.  Why fuck with a good thing?"  He waits, but Arthur only stares at his hands. 

"Was there something else, darling?"  Eames uses the endearment, but Arthur can hear the condescension, and hesitates.

"Arthur, I'm a bit busy, so if - "

"I love you too, Eames.  That's all.  I love you, too."

 

**Buttons** :  *cue make up sex right there on the floor*


	4. 12 Minutes Isn't Enough

~~~~~~~~~~~

[ ](http://imgur.com/taXdLbe)

"Arthur, darling, it's been only twelve minutes.  Can you say refractory?"  

Arthur lays in the bed, still naked.  They're staying with Cobb, who is undoubtedly listening through the floor for "inappropriate" noise.  The kids' art hangs on the walls, and there's no maid, so Arthur has apparently decided to get comfortable and stay in bed all day.  


	5. Theirs, Together

~~~~~~~~~~

 

  
  


 

  

Eames watches Arthur with the puppies, his fingers nervously playing with the blue velvet box in his pocket.

He'd figured today might be the day, but he'd thought that yesterday, too.  And the six days before that. The perfect moment has to be perfect, though, and well, Arthur seemed to take ridiculous amounts of pleasure in getting snitty at the worst times of late. 

Eames smiled to himself.  Who was he kidding?  Chances were, lovely Arthur was ruining moments deliberately.  Carefully stacking the deck, pulling the blinds, closing the door.

No.  Eames shut down that overused escape, hard as it was.  No more doubts.  No more hesitation.  He knew Arthur, and he knew his heart, and he'd wasted time enough.

He shifted his weight against the wall, his thumb nail silently opening and closing the box.  Arthur had finally given in to Eames' pleading, and here they were, choosing a pet.  Well, Arthur was choosing, which was fine, because Eames had always known he would.  It didn't matter.  The forger had longed for a dog years now, but this was more than just that.  This was commitment.  This was Arthur and Eames taking on something that was "theirs" together.  Something you couldn't split or leave behind or divide down the middle when things go pear-shaped.  This meant something, which of course explained Arthur's months of reluctance.

Eames watched.  Arthur snuggled the puppy to his face, making quiet endearing noises at the wiggling fluff.  The forger's chest tightened with emotion, and he took a deep breath, fingers clenching around the hidden box.

"Arthur, love, he is truly adorable, but perhaps you could put him down for just a minute?  I need to have a word...."


	6. Come on, please?

~~~~~~~~~

 

[ ](http://imgur.com/cHLADIY)

"Come on, Eames, it's just one picture."

"Absolutely not."

"But Eeeames..." Athur stretched out the vowel, grinning the whole time, because really, he and Eames both knew the puppy pleading would work eventually.

"Arthur, I'll have you know I take my masculinity rather seriously, and I really don't give a fig what you told your frat buddies. I will not take this picture."

Arthur didn't really understand the problem. It was just one picture, and so what if he'd told his friends from UCLA that his boyfriend was... twinky? It's not like Eames would ever meet them.

"Eames, come on. They used to taunt me relentlessly. Skinny Arthur, the topless bottom. Arthur Twinkenstein. God, Eames, you don't know how bad it was." Arthur paused for effect, smiled just so that his dimples caught the light. "Please?"

Arthur watched as Eames' shoulders fell in defeat. Finally.

"Bloody hell, Arthur. Bloody, fucking hell." The forger walked over and tucked in under the point man's chin, donning his best happy-little-boy smile. Anything for Arthur, apparently.

Arthur flaunted a thumbs up and a victorious grin, then the borrowed bell-hop took the picture.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Buttons: Theme: Arthur's phone  
> Lots of leeway there  
> Xenrae: lmao - really? We have to start with dork?  
> Buttons: Yep  
> Xenrae: Alright... I've got it.

~~~~~~~~~

[ ](http://imgur.com/3Iiwct6)

 

Arthur bent his elbows on the fine linen tablecloth and rested his chin on his hands. Cobb was talking, he was pretty sure of it, but Arthur wasn't listening anymore.  The client, of course, was mesmerized because sometimes Cobb got lucky and had that effect on people.  Arthur, however, was bored out of his mind and trying to fake it was getting on his nerves.

His phone vibrated in his jacket just as he felt his eyelids growing heavy and he thanked somebody's god for the distraction as he pulled it from his pocket.

It was all he could do to stifle the laugh at the pic.  Fucking Eames.  The forger knew he was in a meeting. Arthur laughed again, texting back.  "Fuck you.  I'm in a meeting."

Cobb threw the point man a sideways glance at the second laugh. Arthur was pretty sure it said "Stop acting like a child."

Arthur cleared his throat and put the phone back in his pocket, pulling a stoic and interested face from who knows where, and leaning over the table again.

Ten minutes went by and there was another pic from Eames vibrating in Arthur's pocket.  This time he was letting their puppy lick his face - with his _mouth open_ laughing.  Arthur grimaced.  Cobb glared.  It was great.

"I'm catching hell here, Eames. Stop."  He sent anyway, because it was Eames and Arthur knew he wouldn't listen.

Ten more minutes and another message.  Arthur, not quite so bored anymore, was grinning before he looked at the phone.  This one was video, and all that could be seen in the frame was Eames' tattooed pec and some shoulder, and Eames was flexing over and over, making the ink dance. 

Arthur choked on his coffee, then laughed all the way to the men's room.

Finally composed again, he texted back.  "Damnit Eames!"  Of course, he wasn't angry, and he knew Eames knew that.  This was just part of their game, another piece of their puzzle.  Arthur was still trying to figure out whether making him laugh was a challenge or a duty to Eames.  Probably both.

Arthur returned to the table, composed and professional.  A few minutes later the three men were shaking hands and saying their goodbyes.  Cobb told Arthur he'd call him with details.  Arthur nodded and got in his car.

The point man's pocket vibrated again before he turned the key in the ignition.

This time Eames was naked, laying back in their bed touching himself.  His face wasn't in the frame, but Arthur - well, Arthur knew it was him.

"Don't fucking move.  I'm on my way," he texted back.

 

 


	8. The Drugstore

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Buttons: Theme: choosing lube  
> Xen: oh come on! Choosing lube? htf is that romantic?  
> Buttons: That's the point of this! When you take prompts from people you have to be prepared for weird shit  
> Xen: God - that pic is hot. Is that shopped?  
> Buttons: Probably. And I'm being way less specific in the prompts than most people  
> Xen: You did not answer htf to make buying lube romantic.  
> I hate you... but I'm processing...  
> How about condoms?  
> Buttons: You don't get to choose. Lol.  
> But you can add condoms to the lube bit  
> Xen: This will be 500 words... go get some coffee or something

~~~~~~~~~~~~

[ ](http://imgur.com/7QzHQv7)

 

 

"Shhh Eames!"  Arthur nudged him with his shoulder, but Eames just giggled.

"Darling, we're standing in the condom aisle.  It's fairly clear to anyone what we're doing.  And have I told you how adorable you are when your ears pink up?"

"Oh, shut up," Arthur growled - but he was smiling.

"I can't decide. This one has ribs.  These are multi-colored.  Do we need neon condoms, Eames?"

Eames chuckled.  "I know how to find your prick in the dark, love."  Arthur groaned.

So it went, Arthur reading the back of one box, huffing and putting it back.  Eames doing the same.  The fifth box - or maybe the tenth - Arthur actually dropped it on the floor, pulling his hand back.  "People do that?!"

Eames laughed out loud.  Arthur of all people pretending shock and surprise.  The little deviant had tied Eames to the bed just last night.  Eames felt his pulse quicken, remembering black lace against Arthur's skin. 

~~~

They'd been reading boxes and making no progress for at least ten minutes when Arthur's famous impatience reared its ugly head.

"Eames, this is ridiculous.  Just pick something.  And don't forget lube.  The purple kind.  I'm going back to the car for a smoke."  He didn't wait for the forger's reply and quickly disappeared behind a row of snack food and candy.

Ten minutes later, Eames walked through the sliding glass door to the parking lot, wincing as his eyes adjust to the sunlight.  Arthur was leaning against the car, cigarette resting between his fingers.  A cloud of smoke caught the breeze and pulled away from him as Eames stepped into his space.

"All set?" he asked, flicking the butt away to roll under a nearby sedan.  He took the bag from Eames and tried to peer inside, but Eames grabbed him around the waist, pulling him close, then turned them both so it was Eames' back against the sun warmed car, and Arthur leaning fully against him.

Their eyes met and Arthur smiled back at Eames' grin, then they kissed each other breathless in the sun.

~~~

"Condom shopping getting to you, Eames?  Or was it the lube?"  Arthur teased, his face still close, planting quiet kisses at the corner of the other man's mouth, below his ear, down his neck.

"Not exactly, darling," Eames murmured from under Arthur's lips. "It's you that gets to me.  You are all that gets to me."

Eames pushes Arthur back, just a bit, and their eyes meet again.  "I didn't buy condoms, Arthur."

"But Eames... "

"Arthur... I... "  Eames reaches up and strokes a thumb across Arthur's brow, his cheekbone.  Arthur leans into the touch, a quiet smile playing on his lips.

"You are such a sap, Eames.  The answer is yes."  Arthur tells him.

"But I didn't...."

"You didn't ask?   But you did, Eames.  Can I promise that you're the only one for me and we don't need protection anymore?  Can I tell you there won't be anyone else?  Can I swear that no matter how far we travel apart, I'm yours and you're mine and that's it for me?   The answer is yes, Eames.  Definitely, yes."

It's an awkward and surprising way for them to take this step, but  there is genuine affection and sincerity in Arthur's eyes.  The kind Eames rarely gets to see.  He stares at Arthur for a beat, and then his eyes soften  and he kisses him with more feeling and more meaning than he ever has.  Years they've waited for each other.  Sex was easy, and the game had always been fun.  But this was more.  This was everything.  Just the two of them, from now on.

Thank god he remembered to buy the lube.


	9. Doctor's Office

~~~~~~~~~~~

 

[ ](http://imgur.com/NaJLzbb)

Arthur is wincing and curled up on himself when he leaves the exam room at the doctor's office.  No, he's not trypanophobic.  Don't be ridiculous. He just doesn't like needles.  

Right.

What he really doesn't like, what he finds most upsetting about this whole monthly trip for his birth control shot, is that it reminds him of everything else, especially spending his heat with Eames. He misses those long weekends of overwhelming desire, Eames there with him, pushing into him, flooding his senses with his scent, his presence, everything so... _Eames._

Really, he gets it. Pregnancy is definitely not an option. It's not just that a big belly would be impossibly in the way in dreamshare. It's not even that in his line of work, running fast is often as necessary as aiming straight. Sure, for those reasons, pregnancy is out.

But even if they didn't matter, he's sure Eames doesn't want it.  Eames would blow a gasket.  Eames as a father.  Now, that's funny.

If he's really honest, Arthur can see himself as a parent. He's an omega after all. Those nurturing feels do invade his head from time to time, regardless of how hard he tries to push them back. Sometimes Eames' alpha scent hits him just right, and all he wants in the world is to procreate, give his mate a pup.  He imagines Eames holding a newborn. There's pride in his eyes.

And no, it's not just the act of getting pregnant. Any idiot can do that. Well, any omega idiot.  Anyway, it's more than that. Eames' pheromones make Arthur soft, even clingy sometimes, and Arthur doesn't mind - sometimes.

Every now and then, Arthur imagines them in Bed, Bath & Beyond, one pup holding Eames' hand, the other cradled against Arthur's hip.

Ridiculous.

Arthur winces again when Eames puts his arm around him in the waiting room. "You alright, love?" from Eames.  
Arthur is feeling a bit shy, a bit wistful, but he hides it when he looks up at Eames. "I'm fine. Just a bruise. Let's get out of here," he says. And nothing more.

 

 


	10. Chapter 10

~~~~~~~~~~

 

[ ](http://imgur.com/A3V3VKL)

It's hard to feel bad when you have a kitten in your arms.  That fact is not lost on Arthur as he buries his face in tiny thing's fur and closes his eyes.

"What's going on, Arthur?"

Arthur looks up, schooling his face into something less heartbroken, and smiles at Cobb.  "Nothing.  Why do you ask?"

Cobb sighs, waiting as Arthur crosses the lawn back to the porch.  "Well, you're here, without Eames, and you're cuddling.  Isn't that enough?"

Arthur sits down on the porch swing, watching as James and Philippa argue over who's going to rescue their new pet, now meowing and lost in the grass.

Cobb leans on a stretch of railing and takes a drink of his tea.  Waiting.

Arthur rubs his face with his hands and leans back. "Eames asked me to marry him."

Cobb stares, because he'd have to be blind to not know that Eames and Arthur have a thing.  He even suspected they were living together.  But marriage?  He's at a loss for words.  He swallows down his surprise at last.  "And...?"

"And I said no."  Arthur closes his eyes then, because as much as he needed Cobb to talk him through this, just for now he doesn't want to deal with Cobb's reaction, or the interrogation he figured was coming.  He hears Cobb step off the porch, yelling something at the children on the other side of the lawn.

Arthur pushes the swing into motion with his toes.  Of course he loved Eames.  Probably had longer than he was willing to admit.  They were good together.  Better than good.  But Arthur is a man of details, logic, facts and statistics.  It made no sense to fix things that weren't broken.  Or worse, throw something so fucking perfect in front of a moving train.

The gentle sway of the swing is soothing, but the problem with your eyes being closed is that sometimes it lets the memories in.  Arthur was pretty sure that, even if he lived another sixty years, he wouldn't forget the broken look in Eames' eyes when he'd answered no.  The image makes the pain in his chest throb again, and something at the back of his eyes begins to sting.

He sits up and looks at Cobb as he takes the two steps back up to the porch.  Something about the sound of his heels against the old wooden slats reminds Arthur of another lifetime and it's comforting.

"Are you in love with him Arthur?"  Cobb asks, like he's asking if he'd like some tea.  Arthur doesn't hesitate, because he's had a couple of days to make himself crystal clear on that point.

"Yes."

Cobb sighs heavily as the point man tries to read his face.  "Come on inside, Arthur.  We should talk," he finally says.  The sound of the screen door opening is as familiar as the footsteps were, and Arthur follows Cobb inside.

~~~

Eames is fairly sure he's had worse days.  He's been shot at, imprisoned, spent weeks on the run.  But this... this really fucking hurts.

"Come on, Bane.  Let's get you some fresh air, yeah?"  He grins at the puppy and lets him lick his face before leading him outside.  Arthur, who had revealed himself as a closet fan of everything "Batman," had chosen the name.  Eames thought it was perfect, and he'd kissed him and teased him the whole lovely day, until happiness won out over waiting for the elusive perfect moment, and Eames had just fallen to his knee in front of Arthur in the kitchen of their flat.

Arthur had said no and thirty minutes later, Eames and Bane were alone.

That was four days ago.  Eames had had a lot of time to think.  Eames knows there's a process to this kind of thing.  He could find it on the web if he was of a mind.  He's not.  He goes through the phase where he's heartbroken, clinging to Bane like a life preserver, wetting the pup's fur with tears a man like him shouldn't cry.  Then he speeds through the self-blame phase, telling himself he should have never pushed Arthur.  That bit is over quickly because he'd made the decision when he bought the ring to never again second guess how Arthur felt about him.  Too much time had already been wasted on that.

Next came angry, because Arthur tearing off for America like this, right now, instead of talking to him, was bloody fucking rude, and frankly mean, and loving somebody enough to marry them shouldn't have made him a target, shouldn't have been enough for Arthur to forget about everything else.

Then there were unanswered texts, and unanswered calls, and more tears and the replaying of the whole last six months they'd lived together, then the whole two years since they'd incepted Robert Fischer, and trying to understand how he could have read everything so wrong.

Eames takes the puppy to the neighbor who'd agreed to look after him, and leaves instructions and money to feed him.  Then he goes back to the flat and finishes packing.  He tries Arthur's cell one more time, and again he only gets voicemail.

The last stage, at least as far as Eames is concerned, is the reality check.  He and Arthur should have never let it get this far.  They'd been fools - he'd been a fool.  Their work together was untouchable, and they'd gotten caught up in the addictive high of success.  It made for great sex, but they should have been smarter.  They wouldn't be able to work together after this.  They had bulloxed things up there, too.  There was nothing to be done for it now.  He would find a new point man, just like he'd find a new lover.  Or he wouldn't.

He has 30 minutes before the cab will arrive.  Thirty minutes left of this life.  Thirty minutes left with Arthur.   The weather in Mombasa is pleasant this time of year.  Eames figures it makes sense to go there, to rewind right back to where he was when this started.


	11. Cats Know Everything But They Can't Tell

~~~~~~~~

[ ](http://imgur.com/idITthr)

 

"Loki doesn't know where Arthur is either, Eames," Cobb says, more than a little exasperated as he takes a casual seat on the sofa. "In fact, it's been eight months since they saw each other."

Eames makes faces at the cat for a moment - Loki? - nails dragging along its purring throat and under its chin.  He flops over on his back then and stares at the ceiling for a bit.

"No need to be a dick, love," Eames finally throws back.

It's been eight months since Eames had heard from Arthur, though if he _must_ he'll admit that the first three were his stubborn refusal to turn his phone on after Arthur's last text of "I'm sorry."  Eames didn't know sorry for what - not being in love enough, pretending to be in love at all, _running_?  It didn't matter really.  Arthur had ran, and Eames wasn't signing up for more of that.  So, he'd shut his phone off for eleven weeks, 3 days and 17 hours until he'd thought he might rip his chest open with missing Arthur so much, and halfway through a bottle of Laphroaig - because Arthur likes it - he'd relented and turned the bloody thing back on.  He shouldn't have really, in hindsight.  Nine missed messages and every one of them broke Eames a little more.  He rang the point man immediately of course.

Too late.

Five months after that, and Arthur was still in hiding, and nobody anywhere could find Arthur if he didn't want to be found. Cobb was really Eames' last resort.

"So, you don't know where he is then?" Eames asked, knees popping as he stands up from the living room floor.  It was hard enough asking Cobb for help, but if anybody knew Arthur's whereabouts, it was Dominick Cobb.  Eames looked at him and he merely shook his head in response.  It was the truth, if Eames were any judge, and he was.

Cobb stood and walked Eames to the door.  "I'll tell him to call if I see him, Eames," he said gently, leading the forger onto the porch.

The cat winded its way in and around Eames' ankles and he bent, smiling, and gave it another scratch before standing upright and filling his lungs with air.  He looked back over his shoulder at Cobb.  "Thanks, mate," he said nodding slightly, and stepped off the porch into the night.


	12. Are You There?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Xen: The next pic you give me, no matter what it is, I'm going to turn into a reunion for the angsty bits I've done recently. Deal?  
> Buttons: K. I'll find something suitable. How about this?  
> Xen: Is that Don Jon? Hell no. I can't stand that role.  
> Buttons: Lmao!!!!  
> Xen: Come on, I want to do something fluffy. Eames wouldn't want that douche either.  
> Buttons: Lol then it's perfect. You'll have to totally step out of your comfort zone.  
> Xen: Alright, I've got an idea.

~~~~~~~~~

[ ](http://imgur.com/QCCAK8m)

 

 

 

Arthur's index finger hovered deliberately over the return key a  moment before he pulled his hand back and let himself read through the messages again.

      **CounterFit69:**   Are you there?

He recognized the username, of course.  Eames. He briefly wondered how many times Eames had typed that in before he'd actually caught him online.  Arthur sighed.  They couldn't go on like this.  He didn't want to.  It's hard to work when you're in hiding, and he wanted - no, _needed_ \- to work.

      **Ahhthur1:**  I'm here.

      **CounterFit69:**  Oh thank God. Darling, are you alright?

      **Ahhthur1:** I'm fine.

      **CounterFit69:**   Is this secure?

      **Ahhthur1:** Encrypted, yes.

Arthur played back the minutes in his head.  There had been a long wait here, neither of them knowing what was next.  His heart raced at the time.  Was still racing now.  He read more...

      **CounterFit69:**   Arthur, listen to me.  I'm sorry I didn't answer.  Your messages, the things you said.  Damnit, Arthur I wish I had known.

      **Ahhthur1:** I wish you had answered. What do we do now, Eames?  You fucking know me.  I'm not good at this part.

      **CounterFit69:**   Tell me why you ran, Arthur.

      **Ahhthur1:** Because you scared me, Eames.  That's all I can say.  It was wrong, and I handled it like an idiot, and if you had answered your      fucking phone you would have known that.

      **CounterFit69:**   Don't do that, Arthur.  You left me, remember?  You're not the only one bleeding, love.

It got quiet again here.  They'd been apart nearly a year.  Things between them had been so good, so fucking normal and right, and it had all blown up in an instant.  What if there was nothing left?  Both of them stubborn, both of them equal parts wrong and right.  Arthur hated regrets and apologies. He read on...

      **Ahhthur1:** I'm sorry, Eames. 

      **CounterFit69:**   As am I, Arthur.  For many things.

      **Ahhthur1:** Are you in London?

      **CounterFit69:**   Yes.  Bane sends regards.

Arthur smiled at this.  That fucking dog Eames had to have.  Thank god for good neighbors. 

      **Ahhthur1:** We should talk, Eames.

      **CounterFit69:**   If you want to, darling.

      **Ahhthur1:** Don't you?

      **CounterFit69:**   Of course I do.  I still love you, Arthur.

The point man's eyes had begun to water with that.  He was bone weary.  He wanted to see Eames, and see that stupid dog.  He wanted that smile that Eames only ever gave to him, and he wanted to kiss  Eames into a wall.  He wanted to walk through the London rain wearing scarves and holding hands, and he wanted to wake in quiet gray mornings with Eames already hard and moving against him, then inside him and all around him, drawing out the quiet, urgent sounds that nobody but Eames had ever heard.   

      **Ahhthur1:** I love you too, Eames.

      **CounterFit69:**   Tell me you're coming home then, Arthur, and I'll wait for you. 

The message was already typed.  Arthur moved his hand back over the keyboard and pushed the return key.

      **Ahhthur1:**   Wait for me, Eames.  I'm coming home. 


	13. Knives

~~~~~~~~~~

[ ](http://imgur.com/jnuJH9I)

 

It's not that Eames doesn't understand.  He does.  And it's not that he doesn't trust Arthur.  Implicitly.  But really, it's hard to remember why when there's a knife buried in the chair he's currently sitting in, two inches from his head, and he can still feel the vibration of the _thwack_ in his teeth.

"Arthur, is that really necessary?"

"Shut up, Eames.  I fucking told you!  I told you I couldn't handle this shit!"

Eames watches as Arthur pulls another knife from the cutlery block on the kitchen counter and hefts it casually in his hand.  He's feeling for the balance of it, like the pro that he is, and Eames thinks this might be a good time to duck.

_Thwack!_

"Bloody fucking hell, Arthur!"

A second knife cuts through and into the stuffing of the chair just an inch lower than the first one.  Eames is on his feet now, startled into taking action.  Trust is one thing, stupidity is another.  "Listen, Arthur, just listen.  I'll pay for it.  I'll take care of everything.  You'll never know they were gone.  Just stop... throwing things!"  He takes another step toward Arthur, one eye watching as Arthur flips a third knife in his hand, catching it backward by the blade. 

Eames makes his move, ducking around the breakfast bar as Arthur raises his arm to throw again.  There's a very audible grunt from Arthur as Eames' head collides with the point man's midsection and they both go sprawling onto the kitchen floor, Arthur finally subdued under the forger's weight.

"Get off me Eames," Arthur pants, twisting beneath Eames and not going anywhere.

"Are you done trying to kill me, darling?" Eames grins back at him.

Arthur finally stills, and Eames relaxes his grip.  Arthur doesn't smile, but it's clear to Eames that the venom is gone.  "Yes, I'm done trying to kill you.  But if that dog eats another pair of my Varvatos' boots I'll kill you both, I swear."

"Yes, love.  Of course," Eames says, eyes twinkling.  The forger stifles a laugh out of a sense of self-preservation, then leans over to kiss the scowl away from the point man's face.


	14. Mad World

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warning for mature content

~~~~~~~~~~

 [](http://imgur.com/KOKq33K)

 

 

Eames stepped off the curb, barely able to disguise the rush of joy at finally getting the call, in fact, he was practically giddy.  Arthur had finally gotten a flight out of London, a day and a half later than expected, and if Eames were to tell it, a month overdue.  Twenty-eight days since he's suffered that adorable scowl, since he'd smelled the ridiculously over-priced almond shampoo, since he'd pressed Arthur's lithe body into the mattress and listened to him sigh his name.  The flight was on schedule.  Only another hour to go.

It had been a struggle of late, much to Eames' dismay, but they were making it work.  Dreamshare had gone public six months ago, and somehow, against all that Eames found reasonable or enjoyable, his infamy as a forger and pioneer had elevated him to celebrity status.  He glanced down at the handprint on his _blag_ tee as he ran for the car, deliberately ignoring the symbology of the possessive image on his shoulder.  Yes, there were definitely financial benefits to being the pretty face of dreamshare - and really, who else was going to do it?  But the non-stop travel and appearances, the smiling and denying and covering secrets, that was a bit exhausting.

Arthur, on the other hand, wasn't faring quite as well, and Eames hated every sodding bit of it.  Of course the man was putting up a good front.  He was Arthur after all, a master of self-control and indifference -  Eames was all too familiar.  But, the forger knew him too well to fall for the cool facade.  Arthur had spent a lifetime hiding his identity, and now his name was spoken in every interview, printed in articles and the very first public editions of manuals and histories.  So far, he'd kept his face and personal details a mystery, but the true identity of the legendary point man had become like the Holy Grail of pop culture, and it was only a matter of time.  

The stress was getting to Arthur, but Eames knew something Arthur didn't, and for better or worse, all of this would be behind them soon enough.  He parked the Tesla in the airport's short-term car park, ran his fingers through his hair in the review mirror, then grabbed his jacket from the back seat before heading inside.

~~~~

**_\- We're here -_ **

Eames smiled at the text from Arthur.  The plane was on the tarmac somewhere and the point man would be disembarking soon. 

**- _Can't wait to see you too, love_ -**  
  
Eames sent back, knowing that Arthur would be rolling his eyes at the sarcasm.  He imagined for a moment taking Arthur's face in his hands and kissing his eyelids shut.

Bloody hell.  He couldn't remember ever being this worked up over Arthur's return.  He looked at his watch again, more out of habit than to verify the time.  Another glance at the gate, more pacing and thinking and hoping he'd read Arthur right. 

Eames had rented a secluded cabin about three hours away.  Sure, Arthur was going to grumble and complain that they weren't heading home, but the paparazzi were camped out at their flat - er, apartment - so going there was out of the question.  They had two days, as far as Eames could tell.  That's what he'd told his agent, anyway.  Two days to give Arthur whatever he needed to de-stress and pull himself together.  Two days to feed him, rub the knots out of his neck, cover him with kisses and make him forget the media circus and the world.

Eames looked toward the gate again, unreasonably thrilled to finally see the first few road-weary stragglers dragging their carry-ons through the gate.    

Of course, he had a plan for the minute they stepped through the cabin door.  The blood rushed to his dick at the thought of pushing Arthur onto the cabin's sofa, of his knees hitting the floor between the thinner man's legs, and the soft clank of metal as his fingers work on Arthur's belt.  The forger shivered, anxious to have lovely Arthur in his mouth again and feel those soft curls tickle his nose.

Eames groaned.  Out loud.  Best to stop there, mate.

Another look toward the gate revealed that the trickle had turned into a flood, and he knew the man he missed so much was somewhere among the sea of faces.

Arthur...

Arthur...

Arthur!  Their eyes met, and Eames' chest constricted at the flash of dimples and warm, relieved smile.

~~~~

A sated and boneless point man finally stirred and opened his eyes.

"Feeling better, love?"

Arthur's face rested against Eames' chest, where he had apparently fallen asleep. He moved his hand to draw lazy circles around the forger's navel and snuggled closer. "Stop fishing for compliments, Eames.  It's beneath you." Arthur could indeed pull off fond and annoyed all at once.

Eames laughed, his own hand trailing lazily up and down Arthur's side.  "Darling, it is hardly a character flaw that I know the best ways to get you off - twice." 

They had traded morning sex for a morning shower, which had gloriously evolved into Eames pressing Arthur against the tiles, and fucking into him, slow and deep.  It was true that the point man enjoyed a rough fuck, but this had been about putting him back together more than taking him apart, and Eames had taken his time, drawing out the gasps and moans that were like music to his ears.  Long minutes later, Arthur came over Eames' fist, and then Eames, so deep, soon after. 

Eames, however, hadn't finished working out his lover's stress just yet.  Arthur was too weak to fight as the larger man toweled him off and drug him back to the bed.  Before the point man could protest, Eames had slotted between his legs, sucked Arthur's soft and sensitive cock between his plush lips, and slid two fingers back inside him.  Arthur keened, and moaned, and begged him to stop, but Eames had held him down against the bed, fingers stroking relentlessly against his prostate, until the point man arched and came again, filling Eames' throat as he cried his name.

"Your ego, I swear Eames," Arthur groaned, back in the present.  He poked Eames in the ribs and rolled off him, but not away.

"Oi!"

Arthur stretched among the crumpled sheets, and sighed.  "I hate this, Eames."

Eames rolled toward him, resting his hand on a bony hip.  "I know you do, pet."

"What are we going to do?  I mean, am I supposed to be a college professor now?  A public speaker?   Who am I supposed to be now, Eames?"  Arthur grabbed a pillow and buried his face in it with a huff.

"Well, Arthur..." Eames began - this was either going to fix everything or break everything -

"How do you feel about Australia?"

"It's hot, and empty.  Why?"  Arthur rolled onto his back, staring at the ceiling.  Eames kissed his shoulder and twined their fingers together, squeezing tight.

Arthur turned at that, facing Eames.  "What's going on, Eames?  What _about_ Australia?"

"Well, darling, we need to go see a man... about a job."

Arthur sat up abruptly and Eames flinched.  They didn't do jobs anymore, and the tension suddenly rolling off the other man was more than visible.  The color was rising in his cheeks and not in the way Eames usually enjoyed.   Arthur pulled the sheet over his lap, and ran his fingers through his hair.

"Eames, stop fucking with me.  What the hell is going on?"

Eames took a deep breath.  In for a penny...

"There's a man there, who goes by the name of Max Rockatansky.  We need to find him because he knows where the films are that we'll use to leverage Cobol.   He's a bit mad and out of sorts however, so we may need the PASIV... " Eames paused, whether for fear or effect, "... and a team."

"A team?  What?!"  Arthur is out of the bed and pulling on his boxers in seconds flat. 

"Arthur, let me explain - "

"Yes, Eames, explain," warm and sultry voice pitching higher.  "Explain to me, first of all, why do we need leverage against Cobol?"

"Well, to prevent them from killing us, of course. "  Arthur made a very angry face, so Eames continued quickly.  "I may have said something on _The Daily Show_ that may have been upsetting to them.  You know how John Stewart is, love.  We were chatting, laughing, and it... slipped."

"Oh my God, Eames!  It slipped?  Fucking Cobol?"  Arthur was a bit frantic now,  and he pulled on the rest of his clothes, breathing heavily while he checked his gun and magazine.  Eames didn't move.

"You know what, Eames?  You shouldn't have brought me here."  The point man looked back up at the forger and leveled his gaze.  "They're never going to find your body."

With that, Eames jumped out of bed.  "Arthur, darling, no need to be hasty.  Think about what you're saying."

"Really, Eames?   You insisted you could handle the media idiots.  You said you _had_ this.  I trusted you.  We _all_ trusted you.  Now we've got to find some crazy man in Australia, hack into his head, and _run_ for god knows how long?  How could you be such a screw up?!"

Eames, who had pulled his boxers on, stood at the other side of the bed with his hands on his hips and the kind of smirk on his face that could get him killed.

Arthur had turned his back on him, but was slowly turning around.  "Wait - "

Eames cocked an eyebrow, smirk turning into a full blown grin.  "Yes?"

"Did you set this up, Eames?"

"I don't know, Arthur.  It's a bit too brilliant for a _screw up_ , don't you think?"  The gleam of amusement in his eyes was unmistakable.

Arthur was across the room and knocking Eames back onto the bed in a flash.  The forger laughed as Arthur pinned him between his knees and covered his face and neck with kisses, mumbling words like _idiot, brilliant, I love you_ , every time he took a breath.

Eames finally pulled him in close, licking into his mouth in a deep, hungry kiss, thrilled at the taste and feel of exciting, dangerous Arthur all around him again.

Just disappearing wouldn't have worked.  Eames had _blag_ and other sponsors to make happy, after all, and Arthur had contractual obligations with PASIV research and development that he couldn't abandon without legal difficulties.  So, two days from now a press release would hit the media, explaining - with great drama and intrigue - that certain members of dreamshare had been threatened by former clients and were, at the time of this release, running for their very lives.  The fact that this was true only made it easier, and was, of course, no bother to Arthur or Eames.  This was what they did, after all.  Just ask _everybody_.

"Are you ready to be a point man again, love?"  Eames asked, when they finally broke apart for air.

"Fuck yes, I'm ready, Eames.  When do we leave?"

 

~~~~~~~~~~

 

 

 


End file.
